


Don't fear the reaper.

by BrightestOfCrayons



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Disturbing Themes, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Angst, No underage crap ever in my stories, you all should know that by now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-05 01:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightestOfCrayons/pseuds/BrightestOfCrayons
Summary: Frisk, a naive seven-year-old orphan lived in a rotting orphanage. Hoping to better her life, she ran away, stole a book from the local library on surviving in the wilds and fled to mount Ebbot where she thought she would make a decent life for herself like the dark-skinned tribes she saw on tv. But once she fell in the underground, discovered monsters, the barrier, her newly awakened powers, what the King of all monsters would do to her if he were to find out about her...She was terrified and wanted nothing more to escape despite how much she loved Toriel like the mother she never had. With a shaky hand, Frisk managed to Kill Toriel out of self-defense on her fiftieth try with tears in her eyes. With nothing but determination driving her on her journey, She died hundreds of agonizing deaths trying to defend herself, her naivete lost along the way. It went on like this for thirty years, falling by Asgore's hand in the end. Frisk decided she finally had enough, loading back as far as she could, committing suicide in the pile of dust that was Toriel, only to wake in the ratty old bed back at the orphanage, her powers intact.





	1. A brand new start.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll often come back a reword chapters, correct mistakes, sh*t like that.

Frisk stared at the aged ceiling spotted with mold, it was her old bedroom she shared with five other kids just as miserable as she used to feel at their age. She felt like a thirty-seven-year-old, trapped in the body of a seven-year-old because she was in mind. No tears trailed down her cheeks out of relief from having made it back to the surface, she had cried enough to fill an ocean, or so she believed what with all she's been through. Though she did feel a plethora of phantom pains washing over her frail body, pain that often throbbed whenever she started to wake up or at random times throughout the day often lasting a few minutes. The most painful being where that damn Undyne pierced her all the way through the chest with those spears of hers. Frisk's chestnut brown eyes clenched shut, gritting her teeth for five minutes. 'Grit and bare, grit and bare' she told herself within the confounds of her mind as she always had during her little episodes.

when those phantom pains started to wane, she got out of bed and headed straight outside. It was there she looked up at the stars, real stars, not the shining rocks in Waterfall but real stars she hadn't seen in over thirty years, stars she had taken for granted much like everything else she hardly had by not paying these things much mind...She understood right then and there why Asgore wanted and had killed her over and over again. A long time ago she might have thought such actions against a child were disgusting, that it wasn't right... but now, were she in Asgore's metaphorical shoes, she would have killed anyone if it meant she could see beyond the barrier like this, child or no. It was mid-spring she realized, a soft warm breeze picking up and rustling her dark brown hair that took on a bourbon tint under the light of the moon. It was the night she ran away so long ago. She did not cry, she wanted to but she didn't, couldn't really, as she gazed up at the sky with burning determination behind her eyes. Thoughts buzzing behind them on how she would better her life this time around and with the knowledge she now possessed, having picked up a lot in the underground and or from those she had gained influence from for how long she'd been down there...she knew exactly what she wanted, what she was going to do, where she was going to live and how.. Her right hand instinctively went into the right pocket of her overalls, gripping the handle of the knife inside that she remembered picking up in the underground. An item that hadn't been there before, an item that told her that no. She did not dream all that. her opposing hand entered her left pocket, her thumb brushing over the front of the ancient flip phone Toriel gave her at the start of her journey that proved how real her experiences have been even further, the gold she's picked up from monster's she's spared time and time again piled beneath the phone only strengthening the truth that nobody would ever believe. 

 

"Frisk! You little brat, what are you doing outside?!?" Shouted a voice Frisk hadn't heard in years, it was Marien Watersworth. A woman with a voice that's shrill pitch reminded Frisk of someone grinding their arse against an oversized cheese grater everytime they spoke. Frisk sighed about to turn around, maybe even give the caretaker the usual blank unfeeling stare that not only worsened but followed her into her thirties. Frisk was unable to do this, however, holding back a yelp when, unexpectedly, she was manhandled by this behemoth of a woman. Frisk was yanked back by the collar of her shirt, causing her to gag from the front collar of her shirt pressing hard against her windpipe. By the time she even realized what she was doing, it was too late. Frisk acted on instinct, shoving the knife she was quick to draw out of her right pocket up into the woman's left eye socket. Frisk was not phased the least by the blood not her own dripping down her hand, the small speckled spurts of crimson running down the front of her face, how the caretaker's eye leaked out like yolk from a cracked egg, nor by the death of this caretaker who'd fallen by her hand, like the sack of lumpy potatoes that Marian's strong built frame resembled. The knife embedding itself further into the woman's skull, the sharp tip exiting the back of this woman's skull with a sickening crack. No, Frisk only let her eyes linger on the fresh corpse for a few moments of silence, it was the least she could do for another life she'd taken. One she didn't even like, so the caretaker should feel grateful. Nobody would ever miss her, nor would Frisk.

Frisk looked back up at the stars, listening to the crickets sing. She wanted to stay put and see the sunrise, the knife long forgotten, deeply embedded into the face of someone she hardly remembered. The sound of grass crunching behind her did not deter her from the peace she felt when watching the sun slowly rise over the horizon, but when whoever it was, screamed, and loudly too. Frisk decided that now was as good a time as ever to load, despite how hesitant she was to do it because what if she loaded back underground? Well, she'd soon find out.

After a quick load, Frisk was staring up at yet again, the aged ceiling spotted with mold, laying on a lumpy mattress in the bedroom she shared with five other kids just as miserable as she used to feel at their age. All of them were laying in worn makeshift beds just as bad as hers looked, if not worse. Each bed was covered in tattered over-patched sheets and comforters, the children having wrapped themselves like cocooned caterpillars with mismatched blankets. Hand me down pj's or clothes a size too big just as hers were peaking out from a few of the blankets around the collars of sleeves. The children were slumbering without a care in the world..well, in the make-believe happy world that only exists in the realm of their wildest dreams. Frisk got out of bed after five minutes of enduring phantom pains just like last time, but instead of savoring the sights from outside did she decide to leave the orphanage again. But not without taking a detour. Frisk saved several times when sneaking around the orphanage's many narrow corridors, getting caught a few times by caretaker Marian only to load back a few minutes before she was, treading more carefully around the caretaker adorned in a uniform akin to a nun's but not quite, to the point Frisk had completely memorized Marian's patrol pattern for the night. It was only then that she was able to avoid the middle-aged woman with ease. 

 

While Frisk walked, her eyes roamed over dark yellow wallpaper that she bet had once taken on a bright shade of white at some point last century. The paper curled outward around the spotted moldy ceiling, it always peeled farther back with each passing year. A small family of roaches could be seen worming out from under a fold and jumped down onto the ugly bright green dirty tufted carpet, skittering off somewhere into the darkness. Frisk recalled the many times she shrieked at the site of these vermin, cried even when one jumped on her as a child. now though, her expression just softened some, reminded of innocent monsters going about their daily lives. Frisk shook her head, she couldn't afford to linger. There was too much to be done tonight and only so many hours to get it all done. But then again, when was the concept of time ever an issue for her? 

 

Silently, Frisk snuck into the main office near the front of the orphanage. It was always locked, but she hadn't spent the past thirty years underground just surviving. She removed a bobby pin from her hair and spent the next fifteen seconds picking the lock open. Once inside, she shut the door behind her with a soft click. She had never been In the front office before, and she had to admit it was much nicer than the rest of the orphanage and couldn't help but scowl, realizing where all the spare money for new clothes and edible food had gone that was supposed to help the many unwanted children living here. The wallpaper was pearl white, no tares nor peeling edges, no roaches, no grime. the carpet was still green but it was clean. A well maintained antique desk from the nineteen forties sat in the middle of the room with a tall wide shelf that had to be a few years older behind it taking up the entire back wall. When walking around the desk to inspect the bookshelf she found that on the shelves were files on each child in this maker forsaken place. Were she still seven years old, she'd probably feel tempted to sift through each until she found her own, just to figure out what happened to her parents. But now? She couldn't give a rats ass. Raising her left hand, she skimmed her fingertips over the edges of five files afore turning her attention elsewhere. The desk. On it was a corked, half-empty bottle of scotch and some papers that held no importance to her. 

 

Behind the desk was a chair, just as old as the wooden desk which was pushed in. When pulled out, Frisk found a simple white handbag sitting on the seat. It was Caretaker Marian's purse. Frisk takes the purse and swings its looped handles over her right tiny shoulder. It was time to leave this dump, and with the gold, she's kept from fleeing monsters she spared or killed out of self-defense when there was no other option...Frisk knew that never would she ever have to live here again. Gold wouldn't buy her a hotel room, she knew, not outright, but the Mazuma Marien held in her wallet would. Making a quick Save, Frisk walked out of the wide office and then the front door leading into the night without looking back.


	2. But is it really?(Updated.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels, man. The feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've not only researched the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest of Nevada located in that smaller portion of Eastern California, but I thought it would be the perfect place to drop mount ebbot in those thick woods. Not too far from this Ebbot dropping is one of the many nature trails for the national forest, where nearby is the is the made up, dingy old orphanage Frisk used to live in. Here are some pictures of that forest. 
> 
> http://www.boomsbeat.com/articles/8005/20140826/36-beautiful-photos-of-humboldt-toiyabe-national-forest.htm

"Oh, Milly, stop moping like that!" Came, the soft chidings from a long-haired Ravenette sitting across from who Frisk assumed was the moping woman's friend, the dark-haired beauty waving a well-kempt index finger at said moping woman. The two women were tan, tall, petite, with willowy bodies who looked to be in their late twenties, the two dressed in loose-fitting tank tops and shorts made to travel the climate. Milly with her short sandy blond hair, round face, button nose and those small perky breasts, whereas the Ravenette had a much larger chest that suggested work had been done on them to get them that size at some point in time. "It's not that simple, Beatrice! I can't just stop crying or feel the way I do on command! If it I could I would have ages ago!" Milly shouted from where she was seated beside the Ravenette. Milly's shout had Beatrice's well-trimmed brows furrowing out of what looked like a mix of pity and disbelief under the illuminating light of the campfire. 

The Ravenette's disbelief had grown stronger when noticing the moisture gathering at the corners of Milly's round forest green eyes followed by the tears trailing down her face not even a second later."Yeah, and all those ages ago I would have understood your frustration! Cried with you! hell, I remember crying with you after you and Anderson Split up. but that was what? Ten years ago? You are letting this man, who by the way, wasn't even that good looking, destroy your life! It's time to let go!" There was a long stretch of tense, uncomfortable silence between the two, as they sat in front of the fire they had set up an hour prior to their current conversation. Milly shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she let her face fall into her hands, letting out ugly sobs, followed by Beatrice letting out a discontented sigh as she scooted closer to her friend only to be pushed away. "It's. not. that. simple. Beatrice!" Milly raised her voice again, rising to a stand, looking down at her concerned and somewhat bewildered friend. "We dated for fifteen long years! Fifteen! Not ten! We were so happy, a match made in heaven! Bu-"

Beatrice stood up at her full height of five foot seven then, towering over Milly by an inch or two, a burning determination behind her eyes, cutting off the shorter women with a stern tone that could have given Marian Watersworth a run for her money. "Yes, you were at the time! everybody knew it, too. We were happy for you, even. But it isn't unnatural for people to drift apart, Milly!" Milly just rolled her eyes, folding her arms and looked away but Beatrice continued, gaining Milly's attention back by setting her hands on Milly's shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. "Relationships, Milly, platonic or no are like this campfire here." Beatrice paused to glance down at the fire, gradually letting her hands fall from Milly's shoulders. 

"We're both given a fan upon entering a relationship, and It's up to all parties to keep that fire going. Anderson just decided to set his fan aside, and there isn't anything wrong with that either, Milly!" Beatrice glared at Milly, knowing the sandy blond was going to interrupt with some assinine argument, so she pressed on louder than before. "And yes, it sucked, he gave no reason as to why he left you either! Still hasn't, and that sucks too! but you can't keep letting it affect you like this, it's pushing everyone you know and that still love you away. Hell, it's already pushed Eric and Miya away! You are stuck sitting near that old fire pit, just watching, no obsessing over the dimming embers which represented beloved memories burn out in the ashy remains of what was once a wonderful relationship...Your fingertips caressing the fan Anderson once held because it has his prints on it...because it was once his..." Beatrice's tone softened after Milly's shoulders slumped, her tears dampening small bits of soil beneath her. "It's been fifteen years, Milly, as you said. This obsession isn't healthy, and it's time for you to let go before you lose Mike, Leo, and Angie too! Stop pouring all your strength into a wicked pit and keep the fires going with the remaining relationships you have left! Don't they mean anything to you? Do I mean anything to you?!"

Milly hung her head in shame. "I'm sorry, Beatrice! I just... I can't.." Milly managed to choke out before she ran north into the deep woods. Chestnut eyes watered some, observing the entire scene from the bushes, but for an entirely different reason than Milly's. Frisk planned on never going back to the underground, she deemed Asgore and Undyne too dangerous and horrible to leave the underground despite how much Papyrus adores them, believes in the good of them...Those two monsters, they couldn't be allowed above the surface. It wasn't like she could just go back and face it all again to save those she grew to love anyway even if she gave those two monsters she despised a second chance! not with the strength of a frail child who's fallen by the hand of Asgore no matter what choice she's made or the different routes and approaches she's taken to get to the barrier!

 

It isn't even like the monsters around her from back then ever helped her fight Asgore either, which Frisk never took personally, knowing full well they'de be imprisoned by that royal bastard or given a punishment even worse than death. Just imagining Sans, Alphys, or sweet sweet Papyrus in chains rotting below the castle Asgore lived in...She wouldn't allow that to happen again... The thought was too much to bear. She was going to abandon all the fire pits, the bonds Beatrice described in such a beautiful metaphoric manner...Bonds that her friends in the underground would never remember, except Sans and herself. He would always remember. Frisk had yet to call him yet, his number still saved on the phone Toriel had given her, along with each monster she had befriended... Was Toriel still dead? Frisk was too much of a coward to find out, and if it turned out she was... Frisk knew Sans wouldn't be too happy about that, she was the only reason he claimed to have not killed Frisk the moment they met. or so she remembered him telling her so long ago at the Mettaton hotel. "She told me to look after you," he said...

 

Beatrice ran her hand up passed her straight nose and aristocratic features into her long wavy raven black locks, and tightened her grip, letting out a forlorn sigh. "I need a cigaret." It was nearing midnight, the stars shining so vibrantly in the sky above their little camp. "Are you going to let our flame wane too, Milly?" Beatrice said aloud to no one in particular, staring blankly into the fire afore turning around to run after her friend after five minutes. Once Frisk was sure the coast was clear, she saved, then stepped out of the bushes. Frisk had fat tears of her own running down her face for the first time in twelve years...

With murky vision, Frisk began to grab everything she could, storing each item in the nearly bottomless pocket dimension that came with her power to reset, all whilst muttering the words. "It's for the best, it's for the best, it's for the best." It didn't take long to clear out the camp and Frisk would be gone after twenty minutes she reckoned, but not before slashing the tires of the jeep belonging to those two women she's been stalking for a full week now in her disheveled state. She had been one-night hotel hopping at local tourist attraction locations on the outskirts of the forest ever since she left the orphanage, convincing each bell keeper that she was staying there for a night with her non-existent made up family. Though, it did take a few loads to convince each one of the dolts to hand over a key. She had stolen everything from the inn rooms, vanishing the next day from out a window before she was found out. once caretaker Marian's money ran dry, well... Frisk had to take on the woods, having built a fort a mile from where she had fallen underground.

It was in a secluded area she covered in brush, where further into her claimed turf was a beautiful twelve foot twisted tree that looked like something out of a fairytale picture book, completely hollowed out from the inside. It was five feet long and wide from the inside, the ceiling seven feet high. There's a small hole that no adult could fit through, but she could... It was the perfect place for a temporary camp, where nobody would find her while she slowly put her plans for the future into motion. Inside the tree, she had set up a nice little living space with stolen items from the many campsites and the hotel rooms she's raided. 

She had several bug nets that she tied together and hung around the tree from the inside using strips of ripped hotel sheets and duct tape, this kept the bugs off of her. In the far left corner of her spacious temporary hut was a neatly folded pile of sleeping bags that she planned on switching out whenever they got too dirty for her to use or that she could pile up around herself whenever it got too cold outside. There were a bunch of multi-colored flashlights duct taped to the sides of the walls that she'd turn on when she needed light. Toiletries she'd gathered were kept in one giant neon red hiking bag, food a dull grey hiking bag that ranged from canned to bagged goods. beside the sleeping bags were the sleeping bags neatly folded, color coordinated and stacked. Frisk had even gathered a large haul of clothes that she folded neatly as the mats, kept inside what she deemed the toiletry bag along with a few motel towels.

There was a large wooden crate beside the hiking bags she stole from a motel kitchen, full of unused cookware. She had not yet used the cookware outside of the tree house or at all because she had plenty of packaged food to last her a while. but when she did decide to use the cookware, would it be outside of the tree and far away from it. She did not want to fill her home with smoke or give away her location from the signal it would send to those around her. The rest of what she stole remained in her inventory which consisted of a growing wad of cash from each raid, duct tape, nail polish she used to mark tree's that lead her back to where she set up camp or decent fishing spots, a fishing rod, the gold she collected from the underground and Toriel's old flip phone. the knife too...Just in case, though she didn't think she'd need it much longer.

Aside from the hiking bags, there was a cooler she filled with water bottles that she'd set outside whenever it rained for fresh water. It was truly a miraculous setup, but the moment she noticed her bag of food start to attract ants she was putting it in her inventory.

When Frisk considered living in the big twisted tree she thought there would be a floor of dirt and lots of raccoons she'd have to kill to claim the territory for herself, but there wasn't any of that at all. It was just a low, flat stump of wood of a floor with a high ceiling that reminded her of an elf's hut from the worn storybooks back at the orphanage but without any windows. No rain ever leaked through which was just a bonus to her current home. Finding this place had to be the first good thing that happened to her after leaving the underground...The question still remained, though. Who had hollowed out this tree in such a way, and why?

Frisk jabbed her knife into the third tire, watching it deflate with a smirk on her face but the tears still fell, though they weren't as fat as before... Vandalising this car was making her feel better, and what an exit on her final raid. She now had a crossbow! Arrows for it, even! Frisk was convinced she'd no longer have to stalk those around her long enough to knab their supplies once they leave their camp. Not when she could hunt for her food with this beautiful black crossbow! she could even buy some spices to give the meat flavor with the cash she's collected. And the size of the tent these women have! it was perfect for when she started holing up in abandoned buildings in the inner city. She wouldn't have to steal for a long while, now. Frisk smiled as she slashed the last tire. It was a very bitter and mean thing to do to someone's only way out of the woods, but Frisk didn't care. these women would feel her scorn for reminding her of those she's come to love who would never remember her name... Who she could never see again. She hoped these women got eaten by bears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewording and corrections will be made if I come back and find anything wrong with what's been written. No worries there. I'd love some feedback as well down in the comments there, it's one of the things that keeps me writing a story. the criticism and all that jazz. I won't scream at you like an irritable child playing Minecraft, I promise.


End file.
